


Criminal Minds x Reader Collection

by recollins



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Female Reader, Fluff, One Shot Collection, Other, Reader Insert, Requests, Smut, enjoy them, gender neutral reader, i really suck at tags, male reader - Freeform, these are just one shots from tumblr
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-03
Updated: 2020-07-04
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:28:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25041676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/recollins/pseuds/recollins
Summary: A collection of requested reader-insert stories.My requests are always open! If you'd like to make one, either comment here or send me an ask at recollins.tumblr.com!
Relationships: Aaron Hotchner/Reader, Derek Morgan/Reader, Matt Simmons/Reader, Spencer Reid/Reader
Comments: 8
Kudos: 122





	1. Need [Hotch x Reader]

**Author's Note:**

> **Pairing** : Hotch x Female Reader  
>  **Contains** : Angst, Fluff  
>  **Warnings** : Stabbing, blood  
>  **A/N** : Written for a contest on Tumblr for literallyprentissstwin with the prompt _**I needed you and you weren't there**_.

You squared your jaw as Aaron met your heated gaze, the first time all afternoon. He’d been skillfully avoiding your anger up until now, but with everyone else scattered around the town for the case, you were the only one on the team he could turn to. 

The two of you held your stares for another few moments as he contemplated what to say to you. Your arms folded pointedly over your chest and he let out the breath he’d been holding. 

“Y/N, I need you to –“

“Oh, so you _do_ need me,” you cut in; the flicker of exasperation on his face admittedly making you feel a little better. So what if you were being petty? He’d been the same way this morning. 

“We need to be professional. Don’t do this here.”

“Is that an order, _Agent Hotchner_?” 

His lips pressed into a tight, thin line, recognizing your tone. “Yes.”

With an exaggerated shrug, you moved to lean your hip on a nearby desk. As he continued to stare at you, expecting backlash, you just said irritably,

“Well, let’s get on with it then, Unit Chief. What do you _need_ from me?”

For a heartbeat, you weren’t sure if he was even going to try to talk to you again. His irritated scowl burned through you for another couple of heartbeats before he dropped a case file on the table between you two and turned around.

“I need you to follow up with the victim’s mother. Morgan said traces of cocaine were found in her system, but when he spoke with her she said her daughter wasn’t a user.” You snatched the file and immediately went to leave. “Take an officer with you. I’d rather you not go alone.”

Sadness surged through you at his words; with everything else going on he was still concerned about your safety. _Doesn’t change everything else though_ , you told yourself firmly. You pulled on the anger you’d been hiding behind to snap,

“I think I can handle asking a few questions.”

At your tone, he turned to look back at you. Now his annoyance was joined by his authoritative frown. He capped his marker as he said pointedly, 

“I never said you couldn’t. I don’t want you going to a previous crime scene without backup. It’s not safe.”

Okay, so he had a point. You knew better than to go without a partner, but right now you didn’t want him to win. You’d lost everything else already today. Not this. 

“We’re in Middle of Nowhere, Nebraska, who’s Sheriff is also the deputy _and_ the coroner. The only other officer that works here is a kid right out of high school that’s so overwhelmed with everything he’s hyperventilating in the break room. Who exactly do you expect me to go with?”

“You can wait for Morgan and Prentiss –“

“I’m not waiting, I’m getting this done. If you don’t want me going alone, then you can come with me.” 

As he stared at you, a flurry of rare emotions flickered over his face. For just a moment, he looked as sad and desolate as you felt. But as quickly as it’d been there, the emotion vanished and he turned his back on you again. 

“I… don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Right,” you bit out, giving a harsh laugh. He didn’t try to stop you this time, even when you lingered in the doorway pretending to struggle with the handle a bit. So, head held high, you stormed out of the conference room and let the door slam. 

xxx

_Aaron had to be serious at work, had to keep his cold and guarded front up to protect him from the daily hardships and horrors you all faced. But when it was just the two of you – even better when Jack was with you – he let his icy front slip away. His smile was a rare treat that most of the world didn’t get to see. You’d been expecting one to break across his face any moment, but as the seconds ticked by you realized something was wrong._

_“I thought you’d be excited,” you hedged, clutching the other brochures to your chest as Aaron sat aside the one you’d handed to him. His face twisted into a frown and your stomach sunk._

_“Where is this coming from?” he asked, his soft brown eyes burning through you, cutting down the excitement you’d held onto all night. You tried to match his intense gaze but finally had to drop your eyes as you said softly,_

_“I just... You said last night it was too hard to keep splitting yourself between your home and mine. That you were worried about Jack not having stability. So I thought that if we all moved in together, we could -”_

_“Y/N, that’s not – I didn’t mean we should move in together.”_

_For several long, painful moments a thick silence hung between the two of you. You may have been the newest profiler on the team, but it wasn’t hard to read his micro-expressions. The way his lips pressed tighter together, the shift of his brow and the tensing of his jaw... Now how he couldn’t even meet your eyes._

_“You want to break up.”_

_Aaron didn’t correct you. Instead, he stood and put his back to you as he started cleaning up the dishes from breakfast. You were rooted to the spot, eyes burning into him as he murmured,_

_“It wasn’t fair of me to burden you with my own problems. I knew... I knew that after Hayley, anyone I took interest in would be left to pick up the pieces -”_

_“Is that what you think I’ve been doing?” you cut in, admittedly hurt by his words. “Is that all I’ve been to you for the last nine months? A cleanup crew?”_

_“I didn’t say that.”_

_“Then what am I to you?”_

_“I care about you, Y/N,” he said gently, a tone you’d only ever heard him use with Jack. He was treating you like a child. “But pretending that this will ever be more than what it is now isn’t fair to you or Jack, or even to myself.”_

_You recoiled as if he’d slapped you. Did he truly not see a future with you, like you had with him? Was this really just temporary? Had half a year really meant so little to him?_

_“You and Jack have been my world, Aaron. I’ve sacrificed so much for you and for your son that I never even wondered if you knew how much you both meant to me. Hell, I’ve been to more of Jack’s parent-teacher conferences than you have. I’ve sat with him all night when he was sick with that stomach bug. I love him like he’s my own son. Don’t you think –“_

_Dishes slammed into the sink and Aaron whipped back around, the gentle glint gone from his eyes. He fixed you with a cold stare that cemented you to the kitchen tile._

_“I know I haven’t been there for Jack as much as I’ve needed to be,” he started, voice thick with anger. You blinked in surprise – that’s not the point you’d been trying to make at all! “I’ve appreciated the favors you’ve done for me, but it’s clear you’re forgetting that you’re not Jack’s mother, Y/N. You have no claim to my son.”_

_“No, Aaron, that’s not what I –“_

_“I don’t need you. I don’t need your criticism and I certainly don’t need you to remind me of the guilt I feel every day.”_

_You opened your mouth to throw out a scathing reply but hesitated as his words settled over you._

_“You don’t need me.”_

_It was a statement, a realization of what he’d been hinting at since you’d handed him the brochure. He didn’t want to move in because he didn’t need you. A flicker of anger sparked in your chest and you finally took a step back from him, the hurt flooding your face._

_Aaron blinked at your reaction and the hard mask he’d put on just now crumbled away._

_“Y/N, I didn’t mean –“_

_Both of your phones went off at the same time; a new case. There was no time to dig into the words he’d just thrown at you, no time to pick apart what had just happened. You turned on your heel and snatched your bag off the couch and stormed out of his apartment before he could see the tears_. 

xxx

As you pulled up to the victim’s house you angrily wiped the new tears off your cheeks. You’d spent the whole day reliving what had happened that morning, and each time the anger and pain doubled. 

Maybe he’d said what he did as a reaction to what _you’d_ thrown out. You hadn’t meant to come off like you were insulting his parenting. Like you were ‘taking a claim’ on Jack. You were trying to show him how much you cared. 

Admittedly, the words hadn’t been right. Were they ever, in the heat of the moment? No, not usually. But the meaning behind what was said usually were. So did that mean Aaron meant that he didn’t need you?

“Focus, Y/N,” you sighed, running a hand through your hair to try and calm yourself as you got out of the car. You had a job to do that took precedence of the mess your life currently was. When you and Aaron had first started dating you agreed that your work would always stay a priority, and as mad as you were with him you knew it would be stupid to let everything slip away. 

So you forced back the mix of emotions and focused on the here and now as you knocked on the door. After a few minutes of no response, you knocked a little harder. 

“Mrs. Tanner?” you called, knocking again. “This is Agent Y/L/N with the FBI.”

Still nothing. 

Her car was in the driveway, and she’d told Morgan and Prentiss earlier that she’d be home all day if they needed her for anything else. Following the unease in your chest – your trusty instincts – you tried the handle. 

The door was unlocked; your unease doubled. For a moment, you considered calling Aaron but dismissed it quickly. You’d take a look around and call him when you confirmed something was wrong. After your interaction at the station, you weren’t eager to go running back to him for help if there was no need. 

Unholstering your gun, you slowly crept inside. The house was completely silent. No TV, no voices, nothing. You eased through the house, gun up, looking for anything that might tell you that something wasn’t right. The ranch-style home was thankfully easy to maneuver. No upstairs to deal with, and the basement was just a small one-room square you could check in no time. 

After clearing the whole first floor, with no sign of Mrs. Tanner or any foul play, you began to wonder if you had just jumped to assuming the worst. Maybe she’d gone for a walk, or maybe a relative had come to pick her up. Maybe Morgan and Prentiss had swung back to grab her, for all you knew. 

But as you moved towards the basement door, the unease in your chest tightened a little more. The thought of going downstairs with no backup put you on edge. The open house was one thing, but alone on stairs, in a _basement_? That was admittedly a little much. 

You tugged out your phone as you paused at the door, hitting the speed dial for Aaron’s phone a you holstered your gun. It barely got to the second ring when he answered. 

“Y/N?”

“Yeah, it’s me. Listen, Mrs. Tanner isn’t here. I mean, I haven’t cleared the whole house just yet, but so far it’s empty. I’m about to check the basement –“

“Don’t. That’s too dangerous. I already don’t like you there alone. Get back to the station and we’ll try to get ahold of her later.”

As combative as you’d been earlier, you admitted coming here alone was stupid and you were grateful for the order to come back. The thought of going into the basement… you shuddered and nodded to yourself. 

“Got it. On my way.”

“Y/N?” he said as you went to hang up; you hesitated and felt your heart tighten just a bit. That tone of voice was one you’d grown used to. A hint of concern wreathed with the care he always made sure to give you. He’d been protective of you since the day you’d joined the team, and even now it seemed that old habit was dying hard. 

“Hmm?” you pressed, waiting to hear ‘ _I’m sorry_ ’ or ‘ _let’s talk about this morning_ ’, or even just ‘ _stay there, I’m coming to you_ ’, like he’d done a dozen times before. But he just cleared his throat and dismissed,

“See you when you get back.”

Irritation burst through you as you hung up and shoved your phone back in your pocket. Honestly, you were more angry at yourself for letting your hopes raise up. What did you think, that he was going to profess his love for you and take back all that had happened? You huffed at your own stupidity and turned for the door. 

Hands fisted in your shirt and you were slammed back against the basement door. A shout of alarm left you, only to be cut off by a punch to the face. Instincts kicked in and you brought your knee up, catching your assailant in the stomach and knocking them back. 

The man – tall, dark hair, scar across his face like witnesses had said – lunged at you again. You scrambled for your gun but couldn’t move fast enough. He grabbed you again and threw you to the side, sending you careening into a side table. You crashed to the floor with the lamp, wincing as shards of glass sliced into your back. 

There was no time to register the pain; you skittered back as he rushed for you, hand landing on a piece of the side table. As he dove forward, you hit him hard across the face. He howled in pain and slumped to the ground. Desperation kicked in and you fumbled your gun out of the holster, but he recovered faster than you’d anticipated. 

He caught your wrists just as you pulled the trigger; the gun shifted and the bullet went just over his shoulder instead of through his chest. He slammed you into the ground and your head bounced off the hardwood floor, stunning you just long enough to make your hold slacken. 

“No –“ you gasped, trying to gain control of the gun as he wrestled it from your hands. A shot went off and pain burst through your stomach. A guttural cry left you and you slumped back in shock.

The man on top of you let out a laugh of excitement and scrambled back to tug your shirt up, checking what he’d just done. His hands came back covered in blood, and he grinned sadistically down at you as he patted your cheek and hissed, 

“You deserve to suffer.”

He shoved to his feet, and before you could even try to pull yourself together to go for your gun he was gone. He was going to let you bleed out; from the smile he’d given, you knew that was inevitable. You’d profiled the UnSub perfectly – he enjoyed the suffering of his victims more than their death. 

Which meant you might have some time to save your sorry ass, if you could pull yourself together. Ignoring the searing pain in your stomach and the feeling of your blood-soaked clothes plastering to your skin and the floor, you forced yourself to roll to the side so you could pull out your phone. 

You were already getting woozy, already feeling the dark, cold fingers of unconsciousness creeping over you; you weren’t letting yourself die like this. You hit the last number on your call list and managed to get the phone to your ear as you slumped back into the puddle of your own blood. 

xxx

Hotch frowned seeing Y/N’s name on the screen again. There was no need to call again, not unless there was a problem. He held up a finger to Reid and Rossi as he answered. 

“Y/N, is everything –“

“Shot,” she choked out; his heart jarred to a painful stop. “Shot me. I need –“

“Reid, call 911, send an ambulance to Mrs. Tanner’s house. Y/N’s been shot,” he barked, panic tight in his throat. Reid scrambled with the phone on the table as Rossi got to his feet with Hotch. 

“An ambulance is on its way,” he told her, voice dropping to be as soft and comforting as he could make it. He and Rossi got into an SUV and Rossi took off for Mrs. Tanner’s house. When she didn’t answer, he pressed, “talk to me, Y/N. What happened –“

“Are you coming?” she whispered; he could hear the pain she was trying to fight off. There was a hint of panic in her words too, a panic that came with thinking she was going to die alone. He’d felt that before, and it sickened him knowing she was going through it now. 

“Yes, I’m coming. Just talk to me right now. I need to hear your voice, okay?”

“Aaron, I –” she coughed and gasped for breath; he could hear the blood pooling in her throat. “ **I needed you and you weren’t there**.”

His heart twisted hearing her anguish, hearing the raw emotion behind her words. What he’d thrown out at her that morning came back fresh in his mind, and he knew that’s what she was thinking of too. 

“I know,” he told her, squeezing his eyes shut. A tear rolled down his cheek and he wiped it away hastily. “I should be there with you. I never should've let you go alone. I... I was wrong to say what I did. I need you, more than you can ever imagine. Jack needs you. Please, Y/N."

Though he could hear her shallow, ragged breathing, he didn't get a response. Hotch was right back where he'd been the day he'd lost Haley. Terrified and hopeless while he listened to the woman he loved die on the other end of the phone. 

Yes, he loved Y/N. He hadn't said quite as much – and he'd all but ruined his shot at a happy future with her, but he loved her. It wasn't that he wanted her out of his life, it wasn't that he didn't need her (God, he regretted those words more and more with every second that passed), it was that he couldn't do this again. 

He couldn't lose someone else he loved, he couldn't bear the thought of having his heart broken again. So he wouldn't. He wasn't letting her go. He'd let Haley down, but he wouldn't let Y/N down.

Rossi had just skid into Mrs. Tanner's driveway as Hotch threw the door open and jumped out of the SUV. He could hear the ambulance in the distance; he'd buy them the time she needed. Rossi was shouting about sweeping the house first, but Y/N didn't have that kind of time. 

The door was open, and he could see pieces of wood and glass scattered through the foyer. The pieces crunched under his shoes as he followed the trail of destruction. And there, lying in an alarmingly large pool of blood, was Y/N. 

Hotch rushed to her side, one hand cupping her pale, cold face as he pressed two fingers to her neck, whispering a quick, rushed prayer as he waited... yes! A pulse! He let out a shaky, relieved breath and turned his attention to the source of the bleeding. Her shirt was already tugged up; his blood ran cold. The UnSub had done to her what he'd done to the other three women he'd shot. He'd checked to make sure he'd hit a fatal shot. 

Hotch refused to think about that. Refused to see her as one of his victims. He pulled his suit jacket off and bundled it up to slide under her head, then quickly unbuttoned his shirt to press to her wound. He tried not to notice how fast the blood soaked it.

"Aaron?" her voice was so soft he almost didn't hear her; his eyes snapped to hers as they fluttered open. She tried to speak again and coughed hard enough to bring blood trickling from her lips

"I'm here," he promised, lips tugging into a smile to try and reassure her. She took a shaking breath and lifted her hand. "Y/N, just rest -"

"Jack's appointment," she forced out, staring up at him intently. Aaron's brows furrowed. "For his – his physical. For soccer. Monday. He can't – you can't miss it."

A hundred different emotions flickered through Hotch in a heartbeat. As she was bleeding out, with the last of her strength, she was worried about making sure Jack got his physical? For just a split second he let himself smile; this was exactly why he loved her so much. Jack was her priority, even over herself. 

But the realization settled over him too quickly. If she was telling him about the appointment _she_ was supposed to take him to...

"You'll be taking him," he started; when she tried to object, he pushed on and added a little more pressure to her wound. "I'll be stuck in my office. But you can take a long lunch. You -" Hotch had to clear his throat; when had he started crying? "You two will stop for ice cream, and you'll bring me back my favorite."

"Butter pecan," she smiled, letting her eyes shut. He patted her cheek gently, just enough to get them open again. 

"You'll both sit on the floor by my desk, and Jack will have you help him with that brain teaser you two hate." Tears were rolling off his chin, blurring his vision. He blinked quickly, not wanting to lose sight of her. She was still smiling, but this time when her eyes fluttered shut he couldn't get them open. "Y/N? Y/N!"

Hands grabbed his arm and pulled him back; Rossi had to wrestle him away from her as the paramedics swarmed her. Hotch couldn't focus on what they were shouting. He couldn't look away from her lifeless body. 

Rossi hauled him out of the house, to the ambulance where other familiar faces were gathered. Prentiss helped keep him sink to the curb as JJ knelt in front of him, saying something about cleaning him up. He let her take his bloodied hands as his head swiveled around. 

The paramedics had Y/N up on a stretcher, rushing her towards them. He tried to stand but he couldn't get his legs under him. A pair of strong arms looped under his own and he was upright before he knew what was happening. Morgan practically lifted him into the ambulance after Y/N. 

"We're right behind you," he promised as the doors shut. Hotch instantly sank down beside her and watched her vitals appear on the screen. He blinked in surprise at the steady heartbeat. 

"Is she -?"

"She's stable," the paramedic promised. "She's lost a lot of blood and the internal bleeding is still a concern, but you managed to clot the wound in time."

"She's going to be okay?" He breathed, taking one of her small, cold hands in his. 

"Yes, Agent. She'll be okay."

xxx

"But daddy, this one has a pool! Y/N and I can swim _all_ summer."

"Don't you want the nice gym, though? You like playing on the treadmill."

Your eyes peeled open as you let the sounds of Jack and Aaron pull you out of a deep sleep. As you let yourself wake up, you realized you were in the hospital. The memories of the UnSub shooting you surfaced painfully fast and you grimaced, feeling the ache in your stomach. 

Not wanting to think about his dark, malicious eyes or the smell of his rotten breath, you focused instead on two of your favorite people. They were settled in a chair beside you, Jack on Aaron's lap, flipping through a brochure that looked more than a little familiar. 

One of Aaron's hands held yours, his thumb tracing gentle circles on your skin; a smile crept over your face. 

"I like swimming more," Jack argued. Aaron shook his head slowly. 

"No, no. I remember you saying you _hated_ swimming -"

"That's not what I heard the other night," you teased, voice rougher than you'd expected. Both boys at your side whipped around to stare at you in surprise; Aaron's face split into a huge grin as Jack scrambled off his lap. 

"Y/N! You're awake!" 

He climbed up excitedly onto the bed and, heeding Aaron's warning to be gentle, he threw his arms around your neck and hugged you tight. You carefully lifted your free arm to hold him to you, giggling in spite of all that had happened. 

"Hey, buddy!" You shifted to let him curl up against you, which he happily did. Aaron moved to sit on the side of the bed, hand still holding yours. You met his eyes and the grin on your face turned into a warm smile. 

"Daddy and the team caught the UnSub!" Jack told you, and instantly launched into a recap of what you assumed had been the last few days you'd missed. By the time he'd finished his overdramatic conclusion, you were trying to control your giggling so you didn't hurt yourself further. 

"My eyebrows don't _scowl_ ," Aaron laughed as you wiped tears from your eyes. "Who said that?!"

"Miss JJ," Jack giggled; you snorted and now it was _Aaron_ 's turn to double over with laughter. As you tried to catch your breath, your stomach twinged and you winced. Aaron caught the move you tried to hide and instantly he was on his feet. 

"Hey Jack, why don't you go get the team from the waiting room?" 

The boy at your side made to argue and Aaron's 'scowling' eyebrows drew together. He was scrambling off the bed before his dad could even give a real warning. The moment you two were alone, he was at your side again. 

"Do you need the nurse? We can up your dosage, make sure you're comfortable -"

"You came for me."

Aaron trailed off as you smiled up at him; he blinked in surprise and nodded as his mouth shut. 

"Of course I did," he managed, and you let your gaze drop. 

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to imply you weren't a good dad. And I wasn't trying to replace Haley -"

"You have nothing to apologize for. I overreacted, Y/N. I never should've said what I did. I _do_ need you. I can't imagine what my life would be like without you. I love you so much, I can't begin to think -"

Instantly your head snapped up; your mouth dropped open and Aaron instantly shut his. His face turned thirty shades of pink instantly as you asked in disbelief,

"You love me?"

"I -" he swallowed hard, and a wide, honest smile took over his face as he ducked his head. "Yes, I do. I love you. And I understand if this is sudden. I - I know that after what I said, you may not have the same feelings. You don't need to say -"

You'd been waiting way too long to hear him say that, to know you weren't the only one that felt that way. You grabbed his tie and before you could talk yourself out of it, you pulled Aaron to you and pressed your lips against his. 

He made a noise of surprise and then melted against you, hand coming up to cup your cheek. Before you could forget the whole point of the kiss you pulled back to rest your forehead against his. 

"I love you too, you dork," you teased, and he laughed in relief. As you two smiled at each other, a voice from the doorway said,

"Well it sure took you two long enough."

Morgan had Jack on his hip, coming inside to make room for the rest of the team. Now _both_ of you were blushing and grinning like guilty teenagers. Jack grinned at the two of you as he asked,

"So did Y/N say she'd move in with us, daddy?"

Aaron stifled a sigh – surprise apparently ruined - but you just laughed and wrapped an arm around his waist to pull him to your side. 

"I couldn't think of anything I'd love more."


	2. Headaches [Spencer x Reader]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Pairing** : Spencer x Neutral Reader  
>  **Contains** : Fluff, mild angst  
>  **Warnings** : Mentions of depression, anxiety, and medicine usage

The sound of the front door opening jarred you from your fitful sleep and you jolted awake on the couch, tangling into the blanket you’d burrowed under. Spencer, nudging the door shut with his foot as he dropped his bag on the table, looked over and gave you an apologetic smile.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. I didn’t mean to scare you,” he murmured softly as he tugged off his coat. You blearily rubbed at your eyes as you hung off the back of the couch to watch his post-work routine. He was a creature of habit and his predictable manners settled the flickering anxiety that had been sparking in your chest all day.

Skipping your medication wasn’t something you should’ve been doing, but the new prescription came with the new and unwelcome side effect of killer headaches that hurt so bad it made you nauseous. The first time you’d taken a full days’ worth of dosages, you’d thrown up at work twice from the pain.

Sure, the effects of _not_ taking your medicine were rough too, but you were used to them. The heavy apathy and exhaustion tugging at you all day was nothing new. You’d spent the majority of your life dealing with it, and you’d take some extra sleep over headaches any day. 

“What’re you doing home so soon?” you asked sleepily, and Spencer spared a curious glance your way as he sat to untie his converse.

“It’s almost seven o’clock,” he pointed out, finally toeing the shoes off and making his way towards you. Seven?! It’d been just past two when you’d sat down to binge some Doctor Who reruns… at the look on your face, Spencer frowned as he reached the couch. “How long were you asleep?”

His soft hazel eyes flickered between your Y/E/C ones, a shimmer of worry creeping into his gentle gaze. He knew the symptoms of your depression almost better than you. Instead of answering right away you pushed up onto your knees, reaching your arms up towards your boyfriend. Never one to resist a hug from you, Spencer ducked and pulled you into his hold.

After a few moments you mumbled softly into his neck, “a couple hours. I… lost track of time. I’m sorry.” Spencer pulled away just long enough for him to come around and sit on the couch with you, and instantly he pulled you back into his arms.

“Don’t be sorry, Y/N. I’m just worried. Did you take your medicine this morning?” he asked softly as you tucked into his chest, head resting against his shoulder. It was almost instinctive to try and lie, but you didn’t want to do that to Spencer. He’d been so supportive with your decision to start the medication a few months ago, and even more so when you’d had to change the prescription three times now. You owed him more than a lie you knew he wouldn’t even believe.

“No… and I didn’t last night.” The disheartened look on his face hit you harder than any headache could. “I’m really sorry Spence. I just – the headaches are so bad and I didn’t want to risk getting one tonight because then we couldn’t watch that movie we borrowed from Penelope, and I just thought the depression wouldn’t kick in as fast –“

Spencer leaned down unexpectedly and pressed his lips to yours. You made a noise of surprise, and despite everything else going on you leaned into the kiss, cuddling closer to him. His arms stayed tight around you, keeping you safe and secure. As he pulled back the last flicker of anxiety settled and you took a deep, steadying breath.

“I meant it, sweetheart. Don’t be sorry. I know how tough this is for you, and I know how bad headaches can get. Not taking your medicine, though, that can be worse. Your depression can come back stronger, and you could experience withdrawal symptoms that would make you so sick the headache would be the least of your problems.”

You ducked your head, giving a small nod and sniffling back the tears that had begun to prick your eyes. His fingers tucked under your chin gently and lifted your head up, and he gave a small smile of comfort. “If you don’t want to take it anymore, we’ll go into the doctor tomorrow and look at changing your medication again, or even just the dosage with this one. But I don’t want you to neglect your medicine. I don’t like seeing you out of it like this. Let’s take it now, okay?”

“But if I get a headache it’ll ruin your evening,” you started, and Spencer was shaking his head before you’d finished speaking.

“That’s impossible, Y/N. My evening’s perfect as long as I’m with you, headache or not.”

Carefully detangling himself from you, Spencer got to his feet and held out both hands to you, wiggling his fingers in a playful invitation. You giggled and accepted them, letting him pull you to your feet.

“Thank you for loving me,” you said softly, staring up at Spencer. He gave you a heart-melting smile as he ducked and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to your lips, pulling back just enough to murmur,

“You never have to thank me for that. Loving you is my favorite thing to do.”


	3. On Three [Spencer x Reader]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Pairing** : Spencer x Neutral Reader  
>  **Contains** : Angst, Fluff  
>  **Warnings** : Bombs, explosives  
>  **A/N** : I know exactly nothing about actually defusing bombs. I did as thorough of a Google search as I could but don’t hold it against me if this isn’t totally accurate. .

_This is the **last** time I ever stop and offer to help someone after I clock out_, you think bitterly, cursing the engrained manners you’d been brought up with. Man, if you got the chance, you’d make sure your parents never heard the end of it. Yeah, they had a point – being polite definitely _had_ gotten you somewhere in life, but this is _not_ where you’d ever wanted to end up.

“For what it’s worth, I’m sorry,” Shane sighed, tightening the strap on the vest he’d just wrestled onto you. Your vision was still swimming from the hit to the head he’d given you, but fear had you blinking away the blurring and struggling to sit up. 

“Then let me go,” you croaked, voice still raw from screaming as he’d dragged you through the halls of the office you both worked at. Shane _tsk_ ’d and gave a placating pat to your cheek. “I thought we were friends.”

“Yeah, Y/N, we are,” he agreed, sitting back on his haunches to study his handwork. “And this is what friends do. Help each other out.”

“Friends don’t blow each other up!” you snapped, and instantly the fear was bubbling in your chest again. Fresh tears started to fall as you look at him desperately, reigning in the panic to try and appeal to the human side of him you prayed was buried underneath the heaping pile of batshit crazy. “Please. I’ll – I’ll give you whatever you want. I have some money saved up, I can withdraw it –“

“Don’t insult me. I don’t want money,” he scoffed, shaking his head as he pushed to his feet. “I want all of you sons of bitches to pay for thinking you could fire me. Fire _me_. I hold this damn company together. And you see? Now it’s all gonna fall apart. Literally.”

The cold, heartless edge to his words set your stomach churning, and the sharp glint in his eye confirmed what you’d been fearing: he wasn’t letting you go.

“I didn’t fire you, Shane. What did I ever do to you?” you whispered, dropping your head back against the railing he’d chained you to. Shane simply shrugged, scooping up the duffel bag at your side and stepping over your legs as he slung it over his shoulder. 

“You screwed me over, and then you stripped me of my job. Been here ten years, Y/N, and that’s what you’re gonna do to me?”

“Shane _I_ didn’t do that. I – I’m just the secretary! I just transfer the calls and order takeout!”

“Now you can add _bomb-holder_ to that embarrassingly short resume. For the brief time it’ll matter.” As you met his eyes, honestly not believing he could _be_ this sadistic this effortlessly, he leaned down and hit a button on the front of the vest and instantly it started ticking. The sob tore out of your throat before you could stop it. Shane gave your shoulder one last squeeze before he started off into the shadows. “Like I said, Y/N, I’m sorry.”

You sat in petrified silence for several long, tense moments after you heard the door close down the hall. Completely alone now, desolate fear and despair began to rise up, crash over you like waves breaking relentlessly over the unsuspecting sand. With each pass they grew stronger, colder, threatening to drag you down into the dark depths they rose from. 

No, no. You couldn’t let yourself sink right now. _Deep breath, Y/N. Come on_. Okay, granted, you were just the secretary for a small insurance agency, and you had no idea how to diffuse a freaking _bomb_ , but you had to do something. There was no way you were just sitting here letting yourself be a victim. 

Desperately, your shaking hands tore at the vest, careful not to disturb the mechanism on front. From this angle you couldn’t see if there was a timer, couldn’t see the wires to even _begin_ to pretend like you knew what to do if you found them… maybe the straps? Your fumbling fingers felt around your sides, and there! There was the buckle! For several moments you tried to pull it free, but it wouldn’t budge. Another few moments went to trying to twist yourself around just to see… 

Your heart sunk. Shane had tampered with the buckle, managing to secure a padlock through it that, of course, connected to the chains that held you in place. You and the vest were all tied together in a pretty metallic bow. _Fucking fantastic_. The guy couldn’t figure out how to properly fill out his damn timecard, but he could apparently MacGyver a homemade bomb vest to you. 

Okay, new plan: the vest wasn’t coming off of _you_ , so _you’d_ have to come off the railing with it. You could do that. Right? Experimentally you moved to the chains. Shane had connected you to the obnoxiously solid railing that lined the walkway above the first floor, looping it around your upper arms so tight you couldn’t lift them up. You tried shimming your shoulders to work them up, but with how he’d attached the chain to the vest, all you were doing was wearing yourself out. 

Fine, _new_ new plan: you’d just fucking rip yourself either out of the vest or off the rails. You couldn’t really get your feet under you for leverage, but _damn_ if you didn’t throw yourself forward, praying the bars would bend, or the straps of the vest would break, or you’d knock loose a secret key he’d left stashed on your body he’d forgotten about… 

Nothing. You weren’t budging. Seriously, couldn’t you catch a break and find a loose railing you could snap off? Maybe the lock could jimmy loose if you tugged enough, or maybe you’d find a way to untangle yourself, get free… _something_! Couldn’t you catch a fucking break? I mean come on, you paid your taxes! You’d switched to a reusable water bottle instead of plastic ones! You made so many donations to the zoo last year you’d earned a membership –

You stilled at the thought and slumped back against the rails, ragged breath catching in your heaving chest. Your membership. You wouldn’t get to use your membership. Out of _all_ the things running through your mind, _that’s_ what finally broke you. God, that membership had been something you’d been working for, something that you’d been building up to all last year. As dumb as it was, you were _really_ looking forward to using it. You got free admission all year long, you got a free meal with every visit, you got a cool little badge you’d pinned proudly to the visor in your car…

Now it didn’t matter. None of it mattered. You would be dead before you got your official membership card in the mail. You were going to die on the floor of this godforsaken call center, chained to a fucking indestructible fence, in a jerry-rigged bomb vest, completely alone. Your sobs echoed around the empty building painfully loud, bouncing back as if they were mocking your last moments, nearly drowning out the click of a door down the hall.

Wait. _Door_. 

_**DOOR**_!

“H-hello?” you called, voice pathetically small in the wake of your still-echoing cries. You saw a figure coming around the corner to your right and your heart leapt up. Had Shane come back?! “Shane? Is that you?”

The man that stepped into the dim light of the walkway was definitely not Shane. He crept slowly down the hall, gun held in front of him, making a slow progression towards you as he studied the surroundings. It was dark enough you were probably no more than a lump on the ground.

“I’m Dr. Spencer Reid, and I’m with the FBI,” he called to you, and instantly you struggled to sit up straighter. FBI? How the _hell_ – “Are you alright?”

“Um, no,” you admitted, and as he started to close in on you, you realized he had no idea what he was walking towards. “Wait! No, stop, you – you should stay back. It’s a bomb.”

Dr. Reid paused just ten feet from you; the light from the lower level was just enough you could make out his features. He was admittedly handsome: short, tousled brown hair, a chiseled face with full lips and a killer jawline, all packed onto a tall, lean frame… in any other setting you’d be blushing and smiling and _desperately_ trying to see if he was interested in drinks Friday night. 

Right now, you were so relieved to see a friendly face, have someone there with you, all you could do was stare up at him as tears ran down your face. 

“Is anyone else with you?” Dr. Reid asked, squinting further down the hall as he started towards you again. Had he _not_ heard the thing about the bomb!?

“No. I’m alone,” you whispered. “Shane – he, uh, he put this on me. He went out the way you came in. Everyone else was gone for the night.”

“Okay,” he said slowly, relaxing his stance as he reached up to his vest to say quickly, “ _Morgan I’ve got a hostage strapped to a bomb on the second floor. We need bomb squad_.”

As he tucked his gun into the holster on his hip you sniffed and repeated, 

“You should get back. I – it’s been ticking for a while now. I don’t know how long it’ll be until it just –“ you cut off as another sob caught in your throat. Instead of listening to you, though, Dr. Reid closed the distance between you and sunk down onto a knee at your side. 

“The bomb squad is on their way, and we’ll have you out of this soon,” he said softly. You looked up at him, tear-filled eyes flicking between his own, unable to understand why he wasn’t running the opposite direction. I mean, yeah, he was an FBI agent, but it was just the two of you. No one would know if he just turned tail and ran; you wouldn’t even hold a grudge at this point. 

“If they’re on the way, you don’t need to stay. You’re in danger here with me, Dr. Reid,” you reminded again, trying to urge him to go. There was no point in letting both of you die. Dr. Reid studied you for a few moments and then asked, 

“What’s your name?”

“Y/N,” you whispered; he smiled and rested a hand on your shoulder, squeezing gently. 

“You can call me Spencer, okay? And I’m not going anywhere, Y/N. I’ll stay with you until the bomb squad gets you free, okay?” when you continued to look up him uncomprehending, he added softly, “I wouldn’t want to be strapped to a bomb all by myself, and I have a feeling you don’t want to be either.”

“No,” you admitted, another tear rolling down your cheek. “Thank you.”

Spencer quirked a smile, hand coming off your shoulder to tug a flashlight out of his pocket. He shone it on the vest as he tenderly poked and prodded the contraption Shane had activated. 

After several moments of quiet investigation over the entire setup, Spencer sat back on his haunches, lips pressed together. Instantly you shifted under the chains as you struggled to sit up a little more. 

“How bad is it?” you asked softly; Spencer shifted and folded his legs underneath him to sit in front of you.

“There’s no timing mechanism I can find, so I can’t say how long we’ve got,” he admitted, lips turning up into an apologetic smile. “Bomb squad should be here in a few minutes, though. We’ve just got to wait.”

“And what if it goes off before they get here?” you pressed, the knot of worry in your chest forcing the words before you could stop them. You were really trying not to be so negative, but could he blame you?

Spencer simply shrugged and said,

“We’ll deal with it if we get there.”

Despite the situation you let out a snort that dissolved into shaky giggles, rolling your eyes up; you caught a wry smile from the FBI agent in front of you. 

“Sorry. That’s not funny. None of this is. I shouldn’t laugh at that,” you snickered, shaking your head. Spencer gave a toothy smile and shrugged his shoulders. 

“Laughter’s a completely normal reaction under intensely stressful situations. It enhances your intake of oxygen-rich air, stimulates your heart, lungs and muscles, and increases the endorphins that are released by your brain.”

Huh, cute _and_ smart. Okay, for your last moments, you’d gotten pretty lucky. To your surprise, Spencer gave you an apologetic smile and ducked his head. 

“I’m sorry. Facts and statistics are a passion of mine and I know they’re not comforting to others like they are to me.”

“No, I liked that,” you assured quickly. “I like learning new things, and I’m not exactly doing anything else right now.”

This time is was _his_ turn to laugh, which got another giggle out of you. As you both fell quiet again he cleared his throat. 

“You asked if I was Shane. Is that who did this?” you nodded quickly. “Shane Michaels, right?”

“Yeah. How did you know?”

“My team and I, we’re the Behavior Analysis Unit within the FBI. Our job is to profile criminals in order to catch them. Shane Michaels was on the short list of suspects -”

“Wait. Were you... this is tied to the bombing at the truck driving academy, isn’t it?” you asked slowly, brow furrowing; Spencer nodded, watching you piece it together. “I’m a secretary here. We do commercial insurance for truckers mostly, Shane’s one of the sales agents. He... oh, god.”

The realization of what you’d just fallen into the middle of hit you hard enough to take your breath away. You squeezed your eyes shut, nausea and fear ebbing into your stomach, making you physically ill. A timid hand reached out and rested on your knee, getting your eyes to open. 

“Y/N?” Spencer coaxed, ducking down a hint to catch your eye. 

“He uh... Shane had lost a _lot_ of commission off of them but our agency refused to let him drop the company unless they wanted to. Or...”

“Or they were no longer in business,” Spencer finished, and you nodded as you swallowed hard. He saw the look on your face and you asked softly, 

“Why’d he do this to me? I - we were friends, I thought. We’d worked here for years together. I know our boss was firing him for losing us money, but I was always nice to him. Why _me_?”

Spencer sighed, eyes dropping down for a moment like he was considering if he should answer you. His hand was still on your knee, and you managed to shift your arms enough to rest your fingers on top of his own to get his attention. When he lifted his gaze again, his expression softened. He could tell right now you wanted answers more than anything. 

“Shane’s a classic narcissist. For him, the attempt at firing him was more than just the loss of a job. It was a direct blow to his ego, and he couldn’t let that go. Bombing the trucking company was just rage, just an outlet for his immediate anger. This agency was his main target all along. I don’t think he was specifically after you, I think you were just in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

“I helped him do his stupid timecard _every day_ ,” you whispered, squeezing your eyes shut. “I ordered him extra egg rolls with lunch. I - god. Instead of just walking past him tonight I stopped to help him carry his bags. I thought he was just cleaning out his desk, and then...” your eyes opened, more tears rolling down your cheeks. Spencer’s face was soft, gentle, filled with a deep understanding that somehow made you feel even _less_ alone. He truly knew the terror you were in, the sadness, the confusion... “I should’ve just gone home. Just walked past him, driven straight home, heated up my leftovers.”

Spencer _hmm_ ’d and raised his brows. 

“What’s for dinner?”

He was trying to take your mind off it all. Distract you. Keep the panic at bay as best he could when there was a chunk of explosives resting on your chest. 

“This weird meatball casserole thing,” you started, the face you pulled unable to be helped at the memory of it. He laughed at the look and you explained, “I’m not the best cook, but I wanted to be creative. It’s... well, if I’m in a pinch I could probably use it to fix holes in my drywall.”

The honest, toothy smile he gave you got another unexpected giggle from you. 

“I’m not that great of a cook either,” he admitted. “Usually I resort to take-out. I’m not adventurous enough to try my own creations.”

Now you were both giggling, the sound thankfully drowning out the incessant ticking for a few moments. When he met your eyes again, you found yourself admitting,

“Usually I do take-out too. I’ve been trying to save up money, though, so I’ve been getting ingredients on sale and then pretending I know what to do with them.” Spencer made a face and you nodded eagerly. “Yeah, that’s about how well it’s working out.”

“What are you saving for?” he asked, tipping his head to the side when he caught the instant embarrassment that lit up your face. “If it’s personal you don’t need to answer -”

“No, no. It’s... I like animals. A lot,” you admitted, clearing your throat. “I just earned a membership to the zoo, and... they have this program where you can sponsor an animal. Ever since I was little I really wanted to do something like that. I don’t make a ton here, so it’s been a slow process, but I almost have enough.”

To your surprise there was genuine intrigue on his face, and he studied you with what almost looked like admiration. Seriously, if you could get the eminent death device off of you, you’d really need to find out if he ever got some free time away from bombs and weird animal-obsessed insurance secretaries. 

“I think that’s really neat,” he admitted, without a doubt pulling a blush out of you. “What animal do you want to sponsor?”

You gave a shrug of your shoulders and explained, “I can’t decide. Actually, I was gonna go to the zoo this weekend to look at them all. But now I...”

You cleared your throat and fell silent; the ticking seemed to get even louder just to mock you. Spencer’s hand, still on your knee, gave a gentle squeeze. You hadn’t noticed your lip was trembling until you tried to speak and only a whimper came out.

“We’ll get you out of here,” he promised, the assurance in his voice soothing the tight ache in your chest. You went to answer and without warning, the steady ticking of the bomb stopped. 

You actually gasped, going completely still, eyes flicking between Spencer’s own startled gaze and the vest. The unearthly silence you’d plunged into brought on a wave of hope, and then loud, frenzied beeping began. 

“What that? What’s happening?” you gasped, hands flying to the contraption on your chest in panic. Spencer was on his knees instantly, catching both your wrists in one of his hands while he leaned closer to study the vest. 

“I don’t know – Y/N, hold still. Take a deep breath, okay? Let me look,” he instructed, voice gentle but commanding, putting the brakes on your alarm as you struggled to suck in a ragged breath. He was mumbling under his breath, soft brown eyes flicking over the vest, lips finally pressing together as he lifted his gaze to you. 

“Please tell me,” you begged him; when he still didn’t answer, you managed to twist one of your hands over in his to squeeze his wrist. “ _Please_.” 

“The display is flashing red,” he described, leaning back a hint. “Nothing else has changed, but -”

“But this isn’t good,” you finished, fresh tears forming. Fast beeping? Flashing? It had to be about ready to go off. “Spencer, you need to leave. This is gonna go off and you’re -”

Spencer let go of your wrists, and before you could miss his warmth, his hand took firm hold of one of yours. He sunk a little lower in front of you to meet your gaze with a resolute, unwavering stare.

“I’m not going anywhere. I’m right here with you.” 

You clung to his hand, managing a nod, sucking in another shaking breath. You really didn’t want him to get hurt, but... you really didn’t want to be alone. Maybe that was selfish. I mean, this guy could die because of you, but the thought of having to sit through this alone was almost more frightening than the bomb. 

Almost. 

Spencer has his phone out a moment later, and he popped it onto speaker as it rang. Not a moment later it picked up and the person on the other end instantly said,

“Squads three minutes out, kid - what’s that beepin’?” 

“It just started doing that,” Spencer rushed. “And it’s -”

“You’re still in there? Reid, Hotch told you to evacuate -”

Spencer’s eyes flicked to you and then back to the vest a heartbeat later; you caught sight of the headset he’d radioed in on earlier. He’d been told to leave, and he was still with you?

“Morgan, it went from ticking to beeping, and now it’s flashing red. I need you to walk me through what to do.”

“What?! No, kid, just wait for the squad. Do you know how dangerous -”

“I don’t think we have time for the squad,” he admitted, and instinctively your hand tightened on his. He met your eyes instantly and said softly to you, “Morgan’s studied how to defuse bombs and he’s the best chance we’ve got right now.”

“Spencer he’s right, you need to leave,” you begged, guilt and fear swirling inside of you. You tried to pull your hand free and his own tightened. “Just go. Why are you staying? You don’t even know me and this is gonna kill you -”

“It’s my job to protect those who need it,” he told you firmly, voice low with resolve. “I told you I’m staying, and I meant it. We’re going to figure this out together and you’re going to go to the zoo and find which animal you’re sponsoring. Okay?”

All you could manage was a whimper; Spencer squeezed your hand as he pressed, 

“Okay, Y/N?”

“Okay,” you whispered, nodding and sucking in a shaking breath. Morgan gave a heavy sigh through the phone. 

“We’re really doin’ this... okay. Kid, do you see any wires?”

“Just two, both feeding into the right side of the display. It looks like they attach to the explosive packs.”

“Okay. This is really important. Y/N,” he said, and your eyes fell to the phone on the floor between you and Spencer. “Do you know if there was a remote detonator, or a manual switch?” 

“He - he pressed a button before he left,” you said quickly.

“Can you show Reid where it was?” 

“Um, I couldn’t see, really, but...” you shut your eyes and tried to picture where his hand had been. “Is... is there something on the upper right side?” 

“Yes, two buttons. Morgan, one’s yellow, one’s black.”

“Alright. Y/N, do you know if he pushed the top or bottom one?”

“I don’t, I’m so sorry,” you rushed out. Morgan instantly said, 

“Ay, that’s okay, sunshine. Kid, yellow one’s on top, right?” Spencer made a noise of confirmation. “Okay. We only got one shot at this. You sure you’re good doin’ it?”

Spencer met your eyes again, giving a small smile as his hold tightened around your hand. 

“I am. Tell me what to do.”

“You’re gonna press that yellow button down and yank that top wire out. As soon as it’s out, you do the same thing with the bottom button and bottom wire.”

“That’s it?” Spencer asked in surprise. 

“It’s a direct connection trigger,” he said quickly. “Disrupt the connector with the signals and it shuts itself off. As long as he matched the position of the wires with the buttons that’s all it takes.”

You hated to ask, but you needed to. 

“What if he didn’t match them up?”

Spencer pressed his lips together; you already knew the answer before Morgan said softly, 

“It won’t really matter past that.”

“Right,” you whispered; Spencer went to pull his hand free and you instantly tightened your hold. “I - I can press the buttons for you. Just - please don’t let go.”

Spencer gave you a soft smile and nodded. “I won’t. Here -” he shifted hands briefly and then positioned your free one against the pack, putting your pointer finger on the top button and your middle finger on the bottom button. “Alright. On the count of three.”

“On three,” you agreed. Spencer’s fingers entangled with yours in your lap as his own free hand came up to the wires.

“One,” he said softly. You took a deep breath. “Two...”

You and Spencer locked eyes, giving each other small smiles as you whispered together, 

“ _Three_.”

\--

“Miss Y/L/N?” one of the officers asked, pausing at the back of the ambulance where you were sitting. You glanced up from watching the paramedic wipe off the handful of superficial wounds along your arm as he said, “there’s someone that wanted to speak with you, if that’s okay.”

Your brow furrowed, but you nodded and sat up a bit. The paramedic, taking her cue, murmured something about checking on you in a few minutes before excusing herself into the back of the ambulance, giving you as much privacy as she could. 

Curiously, you looked around the busy parking lot; it was packed with police cars, the SWAT van the bomb squad had (now unnecessarily) shown up in, and a handful of black SUV’s. As the bomb squad had escorted you out of the building, you’d locked eye with Shane in the back of one. 

The fury on his face seeing you being let out of the vest was something you’d hold onto for a long, long time. His plans had been ruined, all thanks to you - and the handsome FBI agent that came around the corner of the ambulance. You were genuinely surprised to see him - moments after you’d pulled the wires out, the bomb squad had rushed the scene. Spencer as practically swept out of the way, and you’d assumed he and his team had left. 

Admittedly, you were really glad he was still here. Like, _really_ glad. With all the life-or-death peril out of the way, you hadn’t stopped thinking about all Spencer had done. He’d stayed with you, _against orders_ , and comforted you with a ticking bomb on your chest. And, instead of taking off when it was getting ready to detonate, he put his life on the line to take a chance at saving yours.   
You weren’t a romantic, but _come on_ this was kismet. You couldn’t deny it. 

Spencer’s full lips pulled into a wide, honest smile as he took in the sight of you. You couldn’t help but smile back, butterflies fluttering in your chest as he stepped closer. 

“I’m glad they got the vest off with no problem,” he told you; free of his own vest he’d been clad in, you couldn’t help take in his outfit. A fitted, dark sweater vest over a dark plaid shirt, and a dark tie pulling it all together. His dress pants fit him illegally well, and the converse peeking out from under them confirmed your suspicions from earlier: he was _undoubtedly_ attractive.. 

“Yeah, a few scrapes on the way out, but I’m in one piece so I’m not complaining,” you joked, and to your surprise he stepped forward. He was as close to you now as he had been earlier, but this was different. This was Spencer standing crowded up against your legs, leaning over you, hand coming out to take yours. 

His fingers curled around yours for just a heartbeat as he lifted your arm, turning it over gently to study the marks. The butterflies surged at his touch, and when he lowered your arm and went to pull away, you quickly grabbed hold of his hand. Spencer’s smile faltered into an unexpected shy turn of his lips as you said softly, 

“I can’t thank you enough for what you did. You didn’t have to stay, and you risked your life for me.”

“You don’t need to thank me,” he said gently, smile quirking a little more; his hand gave a squeeze and he didn’t try to pull away. The feeling of his fingers tangled with yours was a comfort you had never experienced before. Maybe it was because of the whole _held-your-hand-through-a-near-death-experience_ thing, but Spencer was comforting. 

He was a shimmer of warmth against the cold night, a breath of calm in the chaos of the last few hours. He was the boat navigating the waves, keeping you afloat, guiding you to the safety you’d been desperate to reach. 

In that next breath, you felt the air shift between you and Spencer, a new intensity sparking between the two of you. His soft caramel eyes held you in an unwavering gaze; his fingers intertwined with yours and his grip tightened as he shifted minutely closer. 

Normally, you weren’t one to be bold, but _hell_. After being strapped to a bomb, what was so hard about taking a chance?

“I’d like to try,” you said softly, eyes flicking between his as you slowly leaned forward, giving him the chance to pull away if he wanted to. Instead, Spencer shifted impossibly closer and you took your chance, leaning up and pressing your lips softly to his. 

Instantly he kissed you back with a power you hadn’t expected from him. Your lips brushed slowly against one another as his free hand came up, cupping your cheek to hold you in place. Your own hand rested against his chest and he stepped into your touch.

His hand slowly slid back into your hair to pull you against him, silently asking to deepen the kiss. Your tongue swept against his lower lip and his mouth parted instantly, his own tongue darting out and brushing your own. His soft, almost imperceptible moan wasn’t lost on you and you swallowed the noise hungrily. 

A horn honked across the parking lot and the two of you jumped back, staring at each other in surprise before dissolving into giggles. You felt your face turn six shades of scarlet as Spencer glanced back towards the black SUV now flashing its lights at the two of you.

“I, uh, I think it’s time to go,” he chuckled, clearing his throat as he finally stepped back and pulled his hand from yours. He was still smiling, though, and he peeked up at you hopefully as he asked, “but um, I don’t live too far from here. And if you wanted, maybe you and I could, you know...”

An idea popped into your head and reached back into the ambulance, grabbing a pen off the clipboard you’d used to fill out some paperwork. You took Spencer’s hand - reveling in the feel of it briefly - and scribbled your number on the back of it. 

“If you’re not busy this weekend, I wouldn’t mind some company at the zoo,” you teased, enjoying the grin that took over his face as he nodded quickly. “You and your FBI profiling skills can help me find the animal I want to sponsor.”

“I’d really like that,” he said as he gave you a wide, honest grin, tongue pushing against his teeth as he ducked his head. 

Okay, okay. So _maybe_ your parents might’ve had a point. Turns out being polite had gotten you _exactly_ where you wanted to be - on a date with the sweet, undeniably handsome Dr. Spencer Reid. 

Next time, though, you could really do without the explosives.


End file.
